Night fell quietly over the world.
A cold wind drifted across the Silverwood, carrying with it a strange heaviness soft, faint, almost unnoticeable… yet enough to make the old boughs of the forest shudder as if remembering something they could not speak.
Far above, the sky was empty.
No stars shimmered that night.
No moon shared its light.
Only a pale, muted glow lingered behind the clouds, like something enormous had passed through the heavens but left no trace behind.
Still was unusual in the Vyxen Arclands.
Not peaceful simply still.
As if the world had paused, waiting for something unknown to happen.
A soft drizzle fell from the sky, hissing gently against the stone paths and the roofs of the clan homes. The warriors on night watch lifted their heads for a moment, sensing a strange tightness in the air, though none could name its cause.
Inside a modest wooden house at the valley's edge, a woman cried out in pain.
Lira Arctis known among her people for her gentle temperament and unusual strength of spirit gripped the sheets tightly as labor overtook her. Her husband, Kael Arctis , knelt beside her, his normally steady hands trembling just slightly.
He was a warrior, disciplined and calm, but no training could steady the anxious heartbeat of a man about to become a father.
"Breathe, Lira," he whispered, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face.
She smiled weakly, trying to nod.
Moments later, a cry finally filled the room.
A newborn's cry is soft, thin, undeniably human.
The midwife let out a breath she'd been holding. She wrapped the child in a white cloth and handed him carefully to Lira, whose eyes immediately softened with warmth and awe.
"He's beautiful…" she murmured, her voice fragile with exhaustion.
Kael leaned over them, his hard expression melting as he gazed at the tiny life before him. His calloused fingers brushed the baby's cheek, careful and gentle.
"He looks… peaceful," Kael whispered.
Outside, the drizzle stopped abruptly.
The torches on the training grounds flickered as if touched by an invisible draft. A few Arcanum warriors paused, feeling something unfamiliar, a ripple in the air, too faint to understand.
But it passed quickly.
Nothing seemed out of place.
Inside the small home, the child shifted slightly, his tiny hands curling instinctively toward the warmth of his mother's chest. His breathing was soft, steady. There was nothing unusual in his appearance, no strange glow, no unusual markings.
Just a perfectly ordinary newborn.
And yet…
For the briefest second, a warmth pulsed deep within his small body. Something like a heartbeat behind a heartbeat. Too faint for any eye or sense to detect.
It vanished as quickly as it came.
Oblivious, the baby slept.
"He will grow strong," Kael said quietly, almost like a promise. "Stronger than us, Lira."
Lira laughed softly. "Then he truly is an Arcanum."
The midwife excused herself, leaving the new family alone. Kael dimmed the lanterns. Lira whispered a small lullaby one taught to Arcanum children to calm their mana and settle their dreams.
The child did not yet have mana to steady.
But the lullaby wrapped softly around him all the same.
Outside, the valley finally resumed its usual rhythm. The strange feeling dissipated.
The sky remained dark and clouded, showing no stars.
Nothing seemed different.
Nothing seemed to have changed.
In the cradle of his mother's arms, the child slept peacefully, unaware of the world he had entered unaware of its dangers, its mysteries, its distant tremors.
He knew nothing.
He remembered nothing.
He was simply a newborn named by parents who loved him, a child of the Arctis.
And somewhere high above the clouds, unseen and silent, the sky shifted like a curtain fluttering before settling once more.
The world did not understand why.
The Arctis did not notice at all.
The child did not awaken.
Only a faint whisper seemed to brush the night, softer than a breath, swallowed quickly by silence:
"…a beginning…"